Thoughts of battle
by athena2517
Summary: The fighters in the final battle scene reflect on the next day, Frabjous day.


It was midnight and Alice stood on the balcony, Hatter had left a while ago, probably to go to bed but Alice couldn't sleep. He had to remind her what today was, didn't he? As if she didn't know already. Her knees were practically shaking, she was so scared. What if she couldn't slay the Jabberwocky? What if they lost to the Red Queen either way? What if she was hurt fighting the Jabberwocky and-?

There it was. She was going to face the greatest demon known to Underland, by herself, she could die. She didn't want to die, what would her mother think? Would she know Alice was dead? Would she think Alice ran away? She spent the night with those comforting thoughts.

It was midnight and Tarrant was in bed. He tossed and turned, trying to sleep. His conversation with Alice had troubled him deeply; he buried his face in the pillow and tried to forget that she thought this was a dream, that she was afraid, that for the first time since Horunvendush Day he wasn't eagerly awaiting Frabjous Day. For the third time he got out of bed and paced around the room, trying to ware himself out. It never worked. He couldn't stop thinking that, maybe Frabjous Day wasn't what he had been waiting for, maybe it wasn't what he wanted. Maybe he had been waiting for and wanting something else entirely. He spent the night with those comforting thoughts.

It was midnight and Mally was sitting in her room. She was sharpening her hatpin sword, ready for battle. Maybe this battle was the one where she would save the day. Maybe today was the day when they saw the valiant hero in the small body. For the thousandth time she wished everyone else was smaller, she was the perfect size. She went to bed, hoping.

It was midnight and Mirana was brushing her hair. Her under-dress armor and her horse were both ready for Frabjous Day. She wished that the day could pass without bloodshed but she knew her sister's ways, she knew that Iracebeth wouldn't let them win without a battle. Every time she fell asleep she saw her sister screaming, "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" with various victims. Maybe that was why Mirana took the vows, because even at a young age she could see what her sister was turning into. Still, she wished she could have saved her; maybe someday she would come around. She went to bed, hoping.

It was midnight and McTwisp shuddered at the thought of the upcoming battle. He was not a battle kind of person, he liked to run messages and announce arrivals, a battle was not a happy place for him. He hopped about his room nervously. He couldn't go back to the Red Queen again, he couldn't. If she won, he would run far far away, until he could get in touch with the resistance. He wouldn't go back to Salazen Grum, not ever. He went to bed, convinced that no one would see how scared he really was.

It was midnight and Iracebeth admired herself in the mirror, the crown belonged on her beautiful head, not her sister's tiny skull. She took off the crown and prepared for bed. She would not let that blond upperlander slay her darling Jabberwocky. It wasn't fair, she was the eldest! She climbed into bed. "Stayne!" she called. "Time for bed!" He climbed in and lay flat on his back, stiff as a board. He didn't move, and was barely breathing; she knew how nervous she made him, he was always so eager to please her. She curled up with her head on his chest. She went to bed, convinced that no one would see how scared she really was.

Ilosovic stood in the doorway, dreading another night sleeping in the queen's bed. She disgusted him in so many ways, from her head to her voice, to her obsession with the color red. The next day it would end, one way or the other. Either her sister would win, and they would all be punished, or, his side would win and the queen would tragically be killed in the confusion. "Stayne! Time for bed!" she screeched in that hideous voice. He climbed into the bed, moving as little as possible. As if that could make it any easier. What was worse was that she snored. One way or the other, all would be different tomorrow, and he was ready.

Thackery hopped around the kitchen, looking for his weapon of choice. Knives were too uninventive. Spoons would be hard to hurt someone with. Forks might work. "Fork!" he said and set it aside. Wooden spoons were too easily broken. Tea trays were too awkward to carry. Plates broke easily as well. He had it. He raised the ladle high and yelled. "Ladle!" It was perfect, he had a lot of experience using it to hit people who intruded into his kitchen. He laughed happily. One way or the other, all would be different tomorrow, and he was ready.

_Author's note: Yes, Thackery does use a ladle in the battle scene, god help me, I love that bunny. He's my hero._


End file.
